


Who Feel And Know

by mneiai



Series: Prickly Pear [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn't know what he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Feel And Know

Castiel retained, maybe not enough of his Grace to sense them, but enough of his knowledge to realize that these people--these bodies parading towards him, surrounding him--were demons. The way they moved, ever circling, the flashes of something _other_ in their eyes (they'd be black, if he could still see _them_, if his eyes weren't stuck on the physical plain), confirmed it.

He didn't think they knew what he was, though the cloying, smoky smell of a battle between celestials was surely still painting his skin. They'd know him for being angel-tainted, if nothing else. Perhaps they would figure him for an empty vessel, abandoned in a fight gone sour.

"You look lost," one of them said, casually, and another picked up that thread, "Are you lost, little lamb? Do you need our...guidance?"

How, he wondered, not for the first time, were humans ever convinced these sorts were their own? The lowest level demons, those with their youth reflected in their black eyes and their weak abilities, never seemed human to Castiel, even when he had only the vaguest sense of what "human" meant.

At some point, facing them, he wondered if human emotions would come as easily as mortal pain had. For now his face was settled in a stern expression, just a shade away from hostile. He had no desire to provoke them, more than they naturally would be.

"I'm not lost."

One laughed, mocking him, maybe thinking he had gone stoic through fear. Then another was grabbing him from behind, wrapping her arms across his torso. He had overlooked how much stronger they would be, now. He was held still as she sniffed at his neck, breathing him in.

"You smell of innocence, little lamb. How did such a pretty human stay so pure?"

The first one to talk had moved, fast, until he was pressed against Castiel. The body the demon was in was noticeably aroused, prodding against the hollow of Castiel's hip. Turned on, he decided, by the idea of corrupting him. The demon's lips hovered over his, eyes glinting sharp. Hands moved over his stomach, his waist, nails seemingly too sharp for human hands digging into his flesh. Castiel wondered if they'd be able to taste his true self in his body's blood.

He shifted, analyzing the demons before him, knowing he could not get away, but deciding he had to try. He kicked forward into the crotch of the one in front of him, then slammed his head back into the female behind him. They went down, too surprised to process what had just happened. Then they were on him. He lost count of the number of demons gripping some part of his body, bruising and tearing in their rage.

It _hurt_. It hurt like waking up at Chuck's, feeling his spirit want to give out even if his body was still in fine shape. He wondered if he could die, if he were truly mortal. Then he wondered where he'd go.

A crackling noise came to him from afar, just before the demons tumbled off of him, going down to their knees on the crumbling cement. Castiel picked up the smell of ozone, the way the ground seemed to tremble in time with the terrified demons. He swallowed through a mouth gone dry, bringing his eyes to the figure walking towards him.

At first he didn't know who it was, fighting to gain the double vision that would allow him to see the spirit within the body (the demon, he knew, it had to be a demon). When the eyes flashed gold he felt like he was falling midflight. A fallen angel, turned demon, walking towards him--he would not get so lucky with this one, it would not mistake him for a human, even with his Grace in ashes.

The figure, a strongly built young female, watched him. The golden eyes glowed in the dimming light from above, roving over his body, through him and into him, picking at the cracks left in his spiritual walls.

With a wave of her hand, the other demons dispersed, hissing in displeasure, but just intelligent enough to know they couldn't take her on.

"Cassiel," she murmured, "Kafziel, Macoton." He winced at the old names, the ones unspoken in Heaven.

"Castiel," he corrected, after a long pause. "It's Castiel, now, fallen one."

She smirked as she continued her steady pace towards him, stopping just before her feet would touch his legs. "Look at what they have done to you, brother. Look at what you have done to yourself."

He didn't move when she crouched beside him, refusing to show the stirrings of fear. This emotion he was familiar with, even as an angel. Fear was ever present in Heaven, at least after Lucifer's corruption. "Perhaps this is why we could not locate you these long, lonely millennia."

"There's no reason that you should have attempted to do so."

She raised her eyebrows. "Did you think **he** would abandon you to them if **he** had--"

"I don't care what **he** desired. If I had wished to fall I would have done so with **him**, with all of you."

She let out a soft growl. Perhaps, Castiel thought, the others had truly not considered that. Had they searched for him long? Had they called upon him with his former sigil and despaired when they didn't receive even a hint of his Presence? Had **he** thought Castiel dead or chained in some lost corner of Heaven? Of course, in a way, both of those were true.

Castiel took a deep breath, amazed at how much such an act could center him, then sat up. "You know my names, but I do not know yours."

With that, she grinned, as if he were accepting something offered. "I am Paimon, brother."

Then "she" was a "he," Castiel realized, fighting the Dean-influenced urge to roll his eyes. Paimon had taken perverse pleasure in mixing with gender and sex since God created Adam. It had caught Lucifer's attention while they were still in Heaven, had been just perverse enough to bring Paimon into his group of confidantes--angels, after all, were not supposed to care so much for appearance.

He had known it would be one of _them_, one of the ones he had once called "friend," but he could think of a half dozen others whose motives would be clearer. Castiel couldn't trust Paimon, because Castiel could never trust Paimon.

"Glum _now_, Cassiel? Would you rather I was Meresin? Or Belial? Or, hm, you were always close to Mephistopheles....Or, is it that you feel neglected? Did you think **he** would come for you, brother? Did you want to bask in his dark glory and genuflect, finally, to your true Master?"

Castiel winced, assuring himself that not even in the darkest parts of himself did he desire such a thing. "We were never close, Paimon. We were competition, if anything."

Paimon smirked, moving his host through expressions with admirable ease--demons had always been so much better with body language. "Maybe we were frenemies, Cassiel. That would have been fun." He leaned in, body breathing in the air that Castiel exhaled. "You weren't my competition, though."

"Wasn't I?"

"No. You were always **his** number one. I was just fighting to win second place."

Fighting an unexplainable wave of dizziness Castiel stood. "I have to go."

"So soon?"

Castiel stopped, cocking his head to the side. "Is this where you explain that I owe you, now?"

But Paimon was frowning at him, studying his face as if he could still see beyond it to the blackened angel underneath. "This is where I help you track down those lovely little Winchesters of yours." He held up a hand to stop Castiel's knee jerk questions. "I'm kinda fond of this world, brother, of these humans. They're no fun if they're enslaved, if they know we exist and don't have that shrinking disbelief even as we possess them."

It was almost too easy, Castiel thought, to believe Paimon. All the more reason to continue in distrust.


End file.
